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Fandom MAZE RUNNER: FORGOTTEN (main)

Characters
Here
Lore
Here

Januari 2231, Noon. Meal time.

For the past three years, Gladers have been inhabiting the Glade. Many things have changed since the start. Different leaders, different goals, different jobs and different achievements. While the Gladers themselves were nothing but bound in place, everything, oddly enough, seemed to be kept in motion nevertheless.

The Glade had seen many improvements over the years, but with it came great strife as well. From bloody quarrels in the Bloodhouse, sabotage attempts and missing runners, to the catastrophe that took out most of the original Gladers. Needless to say, there were many moments that people would like to forget about, but it seemed like the Gladers of Maze C didn’t deserve of inner peace. At least, not for long.

The past year arguably offered the most peaceful of times. The death count was at an all-time low and the Glade was slowly but surely improving as it usually would. Behind the nice exterior, however, hid a tension. A tension between a divided glade, caused by a shift in needs and wants. Regardless, things were somewhat peaceful. Right until the very end.

When the end of the year came around, the Glade was once again struck in awe and fear. The death of Thomas Isaac, longtime leader of the Glade, was severely unexpected and shocking, and it left them without a collective voice. The little strings that kept everyone coherent were slowly snapping one by one, and they didn’t stop with just the death of a leader. Inconveniences upon inconveniences, things were building up at an uncomfortably fast speed. What would become of the Glade? How could they move on?

So, where are we now?

It’s been roughly more than a week after the unfortunate passing away of the 1st in command, and there obviously have been some things going on. The situation has been quite tense since then, mostly due to people debating about how leadership should be handled within the Glade. Some are choosing to support the second-in-command, others wish to see themselves at the top, and there are even people wishing for the system to be changed as a whole. One thing is sure though, it’s about time that decisions are going to be made, since the Glade can’t move on without at least a form of leadership, in whatever means that might manifest itself.

With all the tensions rising higher and higher, a new greenie wasn’t exactly what people were waiting for, but they arrived nevertheless. His arrival was one week ago, meaning today would be the day the box was scheduled to come up again, albeit it with materials rather than a disoriented and frightened stranger. First, however, it was time to eat.

When the sun hit its peak, the common chiming of bells would echo through the large Glade, alerting its inhabitants of the kitchen now being ready to serve. The meal times were one of the few moments that would bring most, if not all Gladers together, allowing people to interact with more than just their fellow job-mates.

The Kitchen was now open for business, two cooks (one of which would be the ever so radiant Keeper of Cooks) standing at the counter as they waited for people to come to get their food. The wooden benches in front of the kitchen were still predominantly empty, save for a few early arrivals. Hopefully, this would be just a regular starter as it was every day, although there were several... oddities laying dormant today, just waiting to happen.

For now, it’d be best to just focus on the food.

hwayi hwayi lanabanana lanabanana Ungifted ;-; Ungifted ;-; elextrified elextrified D d1uni5ys24si3o Maddy Maddy Shadow Shadow paralyzed paralyzed Epiphany Epiphany Shaded Shaded The roleplay is now open for replies!
 
Theodore Zhang



It had been an abundantly crappy day for Theodore Zhang. Well, that's how he would describe most of his days stuck in this damn cage...maze...prison? He had always had a very pessimistic outlook on life starting from the day that he was sent into this maze. Theo was one of the lucky first ones to be sent to this hellhole. Witnessing all the calamities that kept on overlapping with each other, you couldn't really blame his cynicism towards everything. A defense mechanism of some sorts. That, and his temperament mushed together was what made Theo who he was today. A young man lackluster of the matching youthful vigor someone his age should have. He was the certified cranky grandpa, always complaining about how the food in his youth was better than how it tasted now. Sometimes he'd complain about his aching back or yell at the kids fooling around on his lawn. He didn't even have a lawn. He'd just get an adrenaline thrill out of waving his fist at people, apparently. 'Twas a miracle that he was not one of the creepy baggers that no one was that fond of.

Needless to say, Theo wasn't the most popular, capable, fastest, strongest, charismatic out of the bunch. Hissing at people when they got close wasn't considered as socially acceptable. Not even when the glade that had turned all animalistic in the past week. Theo had tried to wash his hands out of all the dirt that people were throwing on each other. He didn't want to take sides in this conflict. He had certainly been one of those naive people to think that these youngsters could control and keep their hands from suffocating each others' throats every five seconds. The pile of complaining patients lying around his little station was proof that some people really lacked brains and lunged into fights without thinking first. Sometimes Theo too had to make a conscious choice not to strangle someone, shut down his ape instincts for a while. Med-jacks' job was not attacking others. Even more so, if you were the keeper of them. He was supposed to be calm and collected, a leader of some sorts to his little squad when all he wanted to do was sit in some corner and curse the gods and goddesses of mazes for doing this to them.

No use in complaining now. Better deal with his job and shovel some food in his body while he still could. Who knows when they'd run out of necessities. The young boy was just being hangry and needed a break. Waving goodbye to all of the depressive and moaning patients and mumbling something akin to 'tough luck eh?', he was soon gone. There was nothing that would make him as happy as food; Theo was that simple of a man. Not that this cool camp had any other things that would really make a simple man happy. There was a certain 'All work, no play!' feeling in the glade sometimes really got to him. Shaking these thoughts away, it didn't take him long to arrive in the kitchen. Upon realizing that he had not rehearsed his dialogue with the two cooks before him in his head, Theo panicked and froze like an icicle right there, right then. Standing awkwardly with his mouth in slight agape, he made sure to shift his gaze towards the space behind the Keeper of the Cooks' shoulder. There was nothing there, he was just trying to update the software in his head before saying anything. You could almost hear the wheels turning in his brain as he rebooted.

"Yeah," was all he could say. Yeah? Yeah? No one even asked him a question! What the Hell was that supposed to mean? As another piece died out from Theodore's soul, the pale boy waited for someone else to save the day. Wasn't this cook supposed to be a chatterbox?
 
Nikolay Alexeyev
Keeper
Interaction: Open/ N/A

A constant thrum of thuds echoed around a blonde haired brute, each heavier than the other as he slowed to a stop. The brute adorned a loose pale colored shirt, the sleeves would have sagged down if he hadn’t rolled them up to his elbows, however as the brute had been cutting through the maze as quickly as he could. Usually someone of his rank would keep running through the maze trying to scrounge up whatever he could to escape, though he didn’t seem to be running currently. Nikolay was brief in his stop, the blonde brute casting his rather sharp blue eyes towards a possible corner he could run towards. His flash of hesitance was gone as soon as he stopped by the corner, he never rounded it or made an action to curve with it, and so he took an alternate path at full speed.

The keeper left at a quick pace, his legs moving therapeutically against the ground. It felt like a release to Nik, getting the freedom and slight thrill of running. It was dangerous, a constant risk of running in and not outrunning karma to get back out. Nikolay grunted as sweat lined his brow, silence coming from him until he let a gasp of breath shoot out from his nostrils. It was on cue when his ears tuned to the noise of his feet thumping against the ground evenly. It followed a rythem, ‘one-two-three’ over and over again at a quickening pace. His feet hitting the rough and solid concrete bottom at one and two while he sucked in and exhales breath on three. It was a repetitive noise that kept ringing inside of his skull, and bouncing off of the tall vine covered walls.

“Come on, just a few more before you get back to the three way,” he advised himself with a relative deep voice, his nose was relatively stuffy and his throat sore from all the hacking he’d done the night before. He had been getting some kind of cold, he just didn’t exactly have the time to currently deal with any type of illness. The blonde brute was preoccupied with venturing further out past the normal turning points. Nikolay always tried to drive into the other runners to know when to pull back and out of the run. He never wanted them to go to far, he didn’t want them to get too far and be stuck with no escape. For one thing, he always made that his job ironically.

Nikolay was always a little late. He just so happened to be a quick and fast paced specimen that was a little risky, which could lead him to very dangerous situations such as being so late and nearly getting crushed by the maze every now and then—not his fault all the time. Maybe it was his fault all the time. That is entirely beside the point, because he was currently in the position of being behind. Nik had to make sure the runners fit enough to go inside were in before taking off into the maze, and that got him to run through quite a few familiar areas of an incident months ago. That is where he found a clue, or what he hoped was a clue. He believed there was a new section that opened up that had been undocumented to the map keeper in a three way only location. The brute was lead to believe there was a fourth path to take. That in turn would lead a new road for exploration and escape, and maybe even the path that his previous keeper might have found.

Since the pathes change it wasn’t a surprise that’d it would have been closed the day they hunted the group down, unavailable for anyone to see. Nikolay wanted to relay any information he could gather, and if he was late, then so be it. He normally went out until noon and then would begin running back to give him time, but it wasn’t one of those days.​
 
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Clay Rogers

It was getting harder and harder to fall asleep at night.

Clay hovered near the doors to the maze, not pacing, but barely standing still. It was hard not to think about everything that had been going on lately. Reminders of the returning tensions were everywhere, in everyone he looked at. The mood in the Glade had shifted since Thomas’ death, and Clay worried that it was the sort of shift that couldn’t be fixed. That’s what made it more and more difficult to go around tending to things as usual; although, he had noticeably retreated from some of his more commanding duties since he didn’t want to force himself into the role of leader. He really did care what the Gladers wanted, but that didn’t entirely stop him from worrying about what they might decide to do.
He had yet to admit to himself that he had changed in the past week, had started acting different since it happened. He wanted to believe that he could be the rock and glue that held this place together through a tough time, but it felt more like he was bunkering down before it all exploded.

The bell rang, signaling lunchtime and snapping him out of a deep thought. He turned slowly to look at the kitchen building, arms crossed over his chest and a frown lining his face. The early crowd was already there, and he distantly realized that that would usually have made him smile. The small predictable things in the Glade were always...usually, comforting.
He flinched and whipped his attention back to the maze when he heard a noise. His arms dropped to his sides and his whole body practically quivered with alertness, but after staring for a solid minute, nothing emerged. Slowly, his shoulders fell and his posture relaxed back to the stiffness that had taken over in the past week. He turned back to face the Glade with soft sigh, tracing his eyes over the growing lunch crowd.
Habit told him to make his way over to the foot hut and get some food. Maybe that would even make him feel more human. He was stopped by the distant sound of a sheep baaing. His frown relaxing into an almost-smile as he turned to look in the direction of the Blood House. Now he was torn between getting food and hoping it helped, or going to see the animals and hoping that helped. On the one hand, people hugs, and on the other, animal hugs. He needed a nap, but trying to nap while sleep was being so elusive was just frustrating.
He sighed again and rubbed his hands across his face and through his hair. His eyes moved back to the food hut and he just stared at it for a while, waiting for his brain to catch up to the current dilemma.
 
Maximus King


He was in a trance, trapped in a thought he couldn't recall.

A sharp pain in his hand brought him back to the present. He had been feeding his favorite sheep out of his hand. When he first arrived at the blood house, the overall scene and scent appalled Maximus. The floors were stained maroon with the blood of: mostly animals, causing Maximus to cringe. He eventually found taking care of the animals very rewarding. There was one sheep that caught his attention. Its white wool was so fluffy and whenever Maximus was nearby it bounced to him. Fluffers, the name he gave it, was the only reason he hesitated asking for another job.

It had gobbled down the feed and started to nibble on Maximus' hand. "Ouuuch" he said, drawing his slightly bloody hand back but there was a distinct smile on his face. He looked the sheep right in the eyes, giving it a stare off. "I smuggle you extra rations and this is how you repay me?" Fluffer's (I don't give a f) face made Maximus laugh, he loved teasing his sheep. Fluffers finally gave Maximus the baah he wanted. He stood from the crouching position he was in and replied. "Apology accepted," he stated before hearing the kitchen bell ring.

He had to actually think what the meaning of the bell meant. He had been a member of the glade for at least a week, but some of the customs were hard to remember. As if to remind him, he felt his empty stomach rumble. "That's it, the food shack" he said out loud before realizing his only audience were animals. He let an awkward grin cross his face and gave the animals a curtsy. As he started to get ready to go eat, he caught someone's eye. Standing behind a cracked window was a man, his white shirt covered in blood. Maximus let out a slight twitch as his body jumped inside. The only question is, why was Maximus scared of his own reflection.

Maximus cocked his head and flipped his middle finger at the man. He walked closer to the reflecting window to see a clearer picture of himself. He had hairs falling in front of his dirty face. He felt like he needed to clean his face, he cared too much about how he looked. He pushed his hair back and washed his face with water from a nearby trough outside. He thought to himself, 'that wasn't very hygienic, or was it?' Maximus didn't know anymore, he didn't know anything anymore. The glade wasn't familiar to him, that's why he was frightened at his own reflection. He felt home sick, for what: he didn't know.

Maximus pushed the thoughts away, he needed to eat and didn't want to be late. He decided to jog to the food shack, what's wrong with a little cardio every now and then. On his way he saw a man, this time it wasn't a reflection. He decided to approach him, a familiar face but no memory of him. He knew he saw him before, but could only remember he was a higher rank in the glade or something. When he got closer to him he remembered a bit more about him. He was the second in command, not just a higher rank but the highest ever since the first in commands death. He felt proud for remembering those facts, but than felt pity towards himself.
As Maximus approached Clay, he decided to speak to him. Maximus remembered someone from his past telling him, 'the best way to get on someone's good side is to have them explain something to you.' He didn't fully remember the way to the food shack, or anything to be truthful. "Hey, Mister...Sir.." Maximus felt the awkwardness as well as the bright sun flood the surrounding area. "Alright, I'm Maximus but you probably know me as the greenie." The sun put a glare in his eyes so Maximus decided to sheild them with his hand. He imagined how he looked to Clay, the new kid, covered in blood SALUTING? He decided to take the sun to his eyes rather than look like a bootlicker. "Soooo, I seem to have forgot my way to the food shack and was hoping you could show me." Maximus realized he probably had more important things to do, being the second in command and all. "Not if you have more pressing matters," by then he remembered his name "Clay."
 
Elise r. Adair, Keeper of Cooks

Location: The Kitchen| Interacting with: hwayi hwayi | Mentions:


Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner. The three moments Elise would be preparing for every day and, ocasionally, even at night. All three moments had many differences, but she made sure that, once it was time to serve her hungry guests, a smile would be glued to her face. Today it proved to be particularly hard to give a genuine smile, though.

Things weren't very bright these days, to say the least. Elise was never one to be great at handling death in any way, shape or form. That's why she preferred to avoid the Glade's animal pens despite loving animals very much, and why the graves of the fallen were rarely visited by the Keeper of Cooks. Feeding the entire Glade kept her busy, though, and she wouldn't want it any other way. She would rather think about the unfortunate death of a carrot rather than, well, you get it.

Tomato soup, or Carrot soup. She didn't give people such choices very often, but Elise felt particularly generous today. She personally enjoyed the creamy, passion-filled carrot soup more, although that opinion didn't seem to be shared amongst Gladers. Usually, anyone that didn't like the food would be given the option to eat dirt instead, but pettiness and witty comments didn't seem to fit the mood right now.

It sucked quite a bit to feel like her tears could probably fill up multiple of the bowls she was handling, but now wasn't the time to whine and pout. She had a reputation to uphold, and she didn't like it when people saw her cry anyway. A smile suited her much better, even if it happened to be ever so slightly faked.

Peering aimlessly at the walls, Elise was set back in motion when the bells started ringing like they always did around this time. The sun was perfectly set above them, peering down at the dozens of wooden bowls that would soon be coloured orange or red. She took her place at the front desk, watching as some Gladers already came to form a line. And so a smile appeared on the Keeper's face, ready to fill the stomachs of every Glader. Well, except for those who were still running through the whimsical deathtrap known as the Maze.

It didn't take long before Elise was eventually greeted by a familiar face. Well, each face was familiar, but some were just a tad more and this certain Keeper was definitely one to remember. This particular Med-jack, aside from having patched up a few of her kitchen battle-scars, was also memorable due to his different approach to communication. It wasn't that difficult to notice he wasn't exactly her ideal conversation partner, such being someone that can listen and talk until they literally pass out, but that didn't really matter anyway. (Mostly) one-sided conversations were also completely fine with Elise, who was indeed a chatterbox extraordinaire.

As she looked at the Glade's lifesaver, Elise couldn't help but raise her brow as the result of his conversation opener. That mere "Yeah" was quite bland, probably even blander than the tomato soup (which was made by another cook, obviously), but it was enough to work with.

Lifting up one of the empty bowls sat in front of her with one hand, Elise aimed the serving spoon in her other hand at one of the steamy metal pots. "Is that a yes for Tomato soup? I'd personally advise you to pick my beautiful creation to be completely honest." Elise wavered her trusty spoon to the other pot while she spoke, this one filled with the carrot soup she herself worked on. "It's well made and extremely rich in flavour if I do say so myself. I'm pretty sure you'll love it!" she hummed, her smile growing ever so slightly in genuineness.

Elise's eyes shifted back to the soup she was now stirring, verbally idling for not even a second before another comment jumped into her mind and, as usual, immediately found its way out.

"Oh, and it might help those eyes of yours as well since, you know, carrots are great for eyesight, right? By the way, can you even see without those glasses? I don't think I've ever seen you without them." Elise looked back at Theo, noticing the growing line behind him and the lack of enough bowls in front of herself. "One sec!" she added to her rambling, turning around and taking some steps to the right to grab a few more bowls.

Swiftly returning back to her position, Elise would once again grab a bowl and look at the Keeper of Med-Jacks, curious as ever. "So, which will it be?"

code by Ri.a
 
[div class=container][div class=image] [div class=title]Anisha [div class=line][/div] [div class=lil]The Maverick[/div][/div] [div class=b][div class=lilimage][/div][/div][/div] [div class=info] [div class=post][div class=scroll] Art can penetrate the very deepest part of you, where no words exist. An art pouring out of her as if her heart wished to sing all day and all night. Such a chatterbox. Her hand performed a ballet on its own, the paintbrush frivoling against the wall. Fluid movements of her song of emotions. It comes to be born rather than moulded, to show itself for what it is, what it ought to be.

Bong

Bong

Bong

The sound of the brass bell. She reflected purplely and felt like her body recoiled on itself. She whipped her lip, unknowingly staining it with some blue, and set down her little pot of homemade blue paint. As much as she did not want to socialise right now and would much rather continue her painting, her stomach growled on cue. It'd been days since she last ate, soon she would disappear. Besides, as much as she would love to finish this painting right now, her focus was officially broken.

Barefoot is the only way this girl travels around the Glades. The powder settling on her tanned skin, the only protection from the intense sun they ever get. Her skin cast in soft coppery hues by the noonday sun as she directed her way to the food hut. Her eyes glanced at the walls surrounding her, today would be the day. Every wall that entrapped her here must have a door that would also free her. Her renewed purpose still languished her, she could feel her chest tighten. Freedom, a chance for better, yet often leaving her to prefer the familiarity of the walls.

Suddenly, the alluring smell of the carrot soup hit her nose and it felt like a shot of adrenaline. Her mouth literally watered and her pace accelerated, her mind finally shut, and all she could think of was...

"Oh, scrumptious..." she desperately hovered over, a bit too close to the soup. This made her realise? How long has she been skipping the meals? 2 days, maybe 3, maybe 4! The smell of fresh ginger, peeled and finely grated, with the thinly sliced onions and a drizzle of creme fraiche to top soup overwhelmed her senses. On tiptoes, she stole a bowl from Elise's hand and grinned widely like a child as she jumped up and down n' spun around back to the line.

"Feed me oh dear Elise~. I starved myself for far too long! How could I ever forgive myself! How could YOU ever forgive me!" She exclaimed, dramatically flaunting her hand to her forehead as her leg jerked straight up and her body falling backwards. Needless to say, Theodore better catch her or else her heart would be forever broken plagued with mistrust and... and... DISDAIN!
[/div][/div] [div class=pos][div class="round1 round"][/div] . [div class="round2 round"][/div] . [div class="round3 round"][/div] [div class=stats]Starving | Elise & Theodore | open interactions, always.
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Art can penetrate the very deepest part of you, where no words exist. An art pouring out of her as if her heart wished to sing all day and all night. Such a chatterbox. Her hand performed a ballet on its own, the paintbrush frivoling against the wall. Fluid movements of her song of emotions. It comes to be born rather than moulded, to show itself for what it is, what it ought to be.

Bong

Bong

Bong

The sound of the brass bell. She reflected purplely and felt like her body recoiled on itself. She whipped her lip, unknowingly staining it with some blue, and set down her little pot of homemade blue paint. As much as she did not want to socialise right now and would much rather continue her painting, her stomach growled on cue. It'd been days since she last ate, soon she would disappear. Besides, as much as she would love to finish this painting right now, her focus was officially broken.

Barefoot is the only way this girl travels around the Glades. The powder settling on her tanned skin, the only protection from the intense sun they ever get. Her skin cast in soft coppery hues by the noonday sun as she directed her way to the food hut. Her eyes glanced at the walls surrounding her, today would be the day. Every wall that entrapped her here must have a door that would also free her. Her renewed purpose still languished her, she could feel her chest tighten. Freedom, a chance for better, yet often leaving her to prefer the familiarity of the walls.

Suddenly, the alluring smell of the carrot soup hit her nose and it felt like a shot of adrenaline. Her mouth literally watered and her pace accelerated, her mind finally shut, and all she could think of was...

"Oh, scrumptious..." she desperately hovered over, a bit too close to the soup. This made her realise? How long has she been skipping the meals? 2 days, maybe 3, maybe 4! The smell of fresh ginger, peeled and finely grated, with the thinly sliced onions and a drizzle of creme fraiche to top soup overwhelmed her senses. On tiptoes, she stole a bowl from Elise's hand and grinned widely like a child as she jumped up and down n' spun around back to the line.

"Feed me oh dear Elise~. I starved myself for far too long! How could I ever forgive myself! How could YOU ever forgive me!" She exclaimed, dramatically flaunting her hand to her forehead as her leg jerked straight up and her body falling backwards. Needless to say, Theodore better catch her or else her heart would be forever broken plagued with mistrust and... and... DISDAIN!
 
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[div class=textbox]The Glade was certainly something to be proud of, especially when one considered the original state of the place.

When the first had arrived, things were in disarray. Everything that they had to start off with was broken and worn down, thrown into a large plot of land without any real order or care. They'd immediately began working on creating something more sustainable, something that could improve their comfort levels by even the smallest amount. By the time Anton had arrived, things were nicer; now more of an ordered chaos, versus the wreck it had been before. The state of the place had only improved as time went on, bringing in more people and more supplies to get the job done. The old, wrecked structures were transformed into something habitable, usable, and completely new structures were being erected left and right.

More than just a plot of land with random things strewn about, now, it was a home.

It was a home that Anton, the Keeper of the Baggers, took pride in watching over; and from his current place atop of the Homestead, he did just that. Not having much to do on this specific day, he had spent most of his morning in said spot. It was his favorite spot in the entirety of the Glade for many reasons. Being up there, far enough away from everyone else to avoid interaction, but close enough that he could see everything that was happening was almost therapeutic for him, in a way. It helped to ease the overwhelming anxiety that threatened to rip open his chest and pull his beating heart free at any given moment; it allowed him to remember one of his fondest memories- his first time on the roof.

They'd made their way up to the very top floor of the Homestead, the tallest building in the Glade. In the back was a window, already crude in design but even more so than the others due to the branches directly outside that scratched and scraped repeatedly, leaving their many marks. It was unfortunate for the window, but fortunate for the two boys that wanted to jump out and climb their way up onto the roof. Despite only having been there just a little bit longer than he had been, Neil's hands already showed the toils of his labor; calloused and rough, perfect for clinging to branches and keeping him from falling as he climbed. Anton could remember how frustrated he'd been with his own hands; soft, supple, good for nothing but catching splinters and ripping open at the slightest friction. It was a silly thing now, as his own hands had too been worn down and hardened over time, but he had been jealous at the time with how quickly his friend could climb. Neil had led them to the edge of the building once they'd both successfully made it to the top and they'd both sat, legs crossed, and looked down below them.

"I like coming up here. You can see most of the Glade this way," Neil had told him, filling the silence when he knew that Anton wouldn't.
"No one has ever followed me up here to bother me, either. Probably think that creepy bagger is contemplating a jump or something."
A wry smile had crossed his lips, "What a stupid way to go, right? There'd be nothing left of me to bury if I splattered. A true Bagger would never-"

Sometimes, Anton almost wished that he had.

The sound of the lunch bells abruptly went off, quickly pulling him out of his reverie. While annoying him as they always tended to do, Anton was glad that they had interrupted his daydreaming before it had gotten any further. Depressing thoughts like that just weren't necessary; they did nothing but completely sour his mood and prevent him from efficiently doing his job. Nothing positive at all came out of reliving dark memories, so he tended to push them as far back into his mind as he could manage, locking them away tightly and pushing back with as much force as he could whenever they attempted to surface again. However, it didn't mean that he was invulnerable, and sometimes the thoughts managed to slip through before he could catch them. They'd been happening more frequently as of late, do to the death of their previous leader. Most of the Glade seemed to be a little bit more down than usual, and as someone whose job was to sit and watch each and every one of the Gladers, their emotional responses were taking their own toll on Anton himself.

With an inaudible sigh, his gaze shifted over towards the area in which the Food Shack was located, watching the swarms of Gladers coming from all directions head over to get something to eat. On a good day, Anton tended to hang around the Food Shack when he knew it was getting closer to meal time. That way, he made sure that he could be one of the first in line to get his food and therefore one of the first to leave. It allowed him to avoid the swarms of people that he was going to have to currently face if he decided to go and eat. Which, of course, he did decide to do; although a thin man, he could put away seconds and thirds easily and, while the thought of socializing made him nauseous, the thought of skipping a meal was even more so.

He took his time climbing down from the roof and making his way over to the Food Shack, hoping that in the time it took him to make his way over the crowd would have thinned out at least somewhat. It seemed as if his hopes were at least partially granted, as there were significantly fewer people than there had been previously. While he was thankful that the initial influx of Gladers had seemed to have thinned out somewhat as he walked over, he was rather irritated with himself for not having made it sooner. Nonetheless, he walked over to the line, albeit grudgingly, and waited for his food.[/div][/div][/div][div class=credit]credits RI.a[/div][div class=overlay]anton; the spectator[/div][div class=tags]Food Shack
no interactions.[/div]​
 
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full


Name: Angelica Blackburn
Angel wasn't feeling happy,in fact she was actually in her thoughts.Thinking really hard about where she came from and who she was before.But all that didn't matter because her chances of ever living that life again was toast.Angel decided to get back up and head over to the kitchen but before she did that she stuck a small sheet of paper under a rock.This is Angels little hiding spot,she comes here every night,every day.When she first get there she writes on a slip of paper the way she feels,what mood she is in.

"I swear if I ever get out of here,I'll make sure to read one just so I can feel better about leaving this place; and how I felt while I was here."

After slipping the slip of paper under the rock she steps up off her knees and walks through the trees.After two minutes she is back on the main road.

"I guess I should go to eat."

Angel hasn't been eating a lot,she has kind of lost her appetite and doesn't eat.Angel knows she needs to eat but she isn't all that hungry,and so she eats very little.Angel finally made it and went inside,there were a lot of people in there and Angel started to feel like she was smuggled.So she blinked and walked to the line.There were alot of people talking to each other,but Angel didn't feel like anyone would wanna hear about her feelings.

As Angel was walking she got some "Hellos"and"Hi's" and sometimes a wave or two.And she would always respond.

"Hello!"

Angel didn't want this place to weigh on her spirit.Angel went to the back of the line and waited patiently.


Location
Hiding Spot------>Kitchen

Interactions
N/A

Mentions
N/A
code by Ri.a
 

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Vera Rubin

Unlike the bricknicks and the slicers, there wasn’t always work to be done for a builder. It was one of the advantages of the job, Vee supposed. Or, at least in a normal world, it would have been. Only, this was no ‘normal world’. In fact, there was nothing normal about it at all, in spite of their best attempts. So, when days came and went, such as today, when there was very seldom to do, Vera found herself growing restless and agitated. She’d pace the room back and forth; let out grunted rage; on the bad days, she’d even fling a few things around.

It had been different, when Murph was there. Well, not at first; for, at the beginning, he’d made banishment look like a splendid idea. At least, that way, she wouldn’t have to put up with the burden of seeing his moping face, or hearing his seemingly eternal whining. Veritably, their whole relationship had been quite an ordeal, from start to end. Although, she never talked about it — not that she even had a friend to consider making such a confession to — it ended as tragically as it had started, with misfaith and miscommunication.

Some days — oh, some days — she could not help but wonder what it would’ve been like had she not let him in, not visited him when he’d been imprisoned and saw him for the flawed being that he was. She couldn’t help but wonder how much more content — not happy, for she was certain nobody could amount to that within this hellhole — that she would be, if she had not allowed him in. Why had she?

There’d been no one before Murph — no acquaintances, friends, allies, enemies... boyfriends — nor had she planned on making any. What was the point when she was gonna escape the first shot that she got? It wasn’t necessarily like she was socially outcast — not at first, at least. People tried. Such an example could be found in them giving to her such a well esteemed job with the bricknicks. She just... couldn’t. It wasn’t even that she hadn’t wanted to. Survival was a lot easier when the effort was made as a group, as they demonstrated now, as the civil conflict had demonstrated through many misfortuante deaths.

Scientifically, she understood that. As a ‘functional’ human being, however, it just didn’t compute. People... how to begin to describe people: loud, overly indulging, generally rather shallow, innately selfish, oh, and much indifferent. It wasn’t necessarily like she even took that personal, or meant it so. That was just how it was. Visiting Murphy, however, and speaking to him while he awaited trial — needing to know that ‘why?’ as scientific souls often do — had changed that presumption though.

Scientists say that you can never prove a theory, only falsify it. This belief originated from black swans. The term ‘Black Swan’ originates from the (Western) belief that all swans are white because these were the only ones accounted for. However, in 1697 the Dutch explorer Willem de Vlamingh discovered black swans in Australia. This was a pivotal point. Similarly, however, hearing Leonardo open up about what he endured and how broken he felt, this disproved her theory on people, crumbling the walls she had built so very high.

People were not greedy, malicious, or shallow. They were just people, broken and flawed people trying to find a purpose, trying to find themselves... just like her. This was the reason she’d begged the Keepers to acquit the trial. Surprisingly, they complied, for the early days were much more merciful — there was no talk of having to ‘’make examples’ yet — and Murph was an excellent builder.

People also said that it was ‘better to have loved and lost’ than to ‘never have loved at all’. This, however, was not scientifically sound. Frankly, Vera understood that this was just something that people reminded themselves in the pits of despair and regret. Perhaps, she would do well to go along with their mindset, and in some ways she did. Following the catastrophe, she’d not gone straight back to isolation. No, she found some kinds of comfort in conversing and opening up to a selective few — Nik, Theo, Rewa and Anisha.

She’d been leant over a map of plans when the bell had went, trying to occupy her wandering mind and force herself to concentrate (which was never really to any avail). Lunch, unlike the old days, was usually a good antidote for these kinds of things. Although she’d never really been one for small talk, Vee had acquired enough compassion for some as to actually be intrigued by what they had to say, or to listen to them vent about today’s miseries, which was usually the same thing.

She’d been reunited with civilisation just long enough to get a good snigger at Theo’s attempt to socially interact. A bemused smirk playin upon her lips, she set her apologies to the few people she slipped by — pushing in front for food wasn’t really something people in normal societies took in their stride — in order to rescue him before he managed to do much else. Sometimes, however, it is funny the irony that fate could have. For, as she strode to the side of Theodore, Anisha took the self same moment to put on a theatrical performance, jokingly flinging herself in what appeared to be a jest at Elise. Vee had to duck, to avoid the flailing arms. The falling body, on the other hand, she had no defences for.

Letting out a squeaking, “Anisha!”, Vera used all of her might to keep the two of them on their feet, and not strewn upon the floor. Surprisingly, given her small build, only beaten by Elise herself, she managed to prevent them both from suffering such embarrassment, and let out a subsequent huff. “How you are still alive to this day is far beyond amazement,” she let out an audible grumble, rubbing her belly in hungry anticipation. As Theo had before, she attempted to steal a glance at what was on offer today, lifting herself on her tippy toes to muster some height. “Ooh, we have two choices today. You spoil us, Elise, but really...” she gave a small laugh, but a minor hum in the sea of noise, “I think I speak for both me and Theo when I say the only true choice is the one that you made”. After all, Vee had been here long enough to learn the ways of the Glade. #SurvivalTip1: the only edible food was that made by their heavenly little Keeper.



 
Theodore Zhang
interacting: Elise Danidify Danidify , Anisha D d1uni5ys24si3o , Vee Kassandra Rose Kassandra Rose

Anyone who could read any basic body language and was not a brainless idiot would be able to take the hint from Theodore's body language. He was insanely uncomfortable and wanted to get out of this situation. He cursed himself for not properly rehearsing the predictable dialogue that he would have had with Elise in his head. Hand on the back of his neck, eyes glued on his shoes, lips pulled into a tight line. There was a certain aura of nervousness always around the young man. It was rare to see him not fiddling with the sleeves of his old and dirty grey hoodie. If you looked closely, you'd see how much he has chewed and pulled on said sleeves. He was like prey that felt always watched and was prepared to be chased, even if his predator was nowhere to be seen. But Theodore wasn't always like this. It was the curse of seeing this little society of theirs fall down and crumble over and over again. His constant paranoia was justified. He saw himself as the weak link of this system and knew that if he wouldn't be alert at all times, someone would eventually stab him in the back. People who were frustrated and afraid would always choose the most extreme option. That's why the last week had been so stressful for Theo. He was waiting for someone to snap and start feeding mass hysteria to everyone.

Waking up from his nervous trance as Elise spoke, he neutralized his face and stance. The reboot was complete, he could interact (barely) again. "It doesn't matter..." he hummed slowly to avoid stuttering, emphasizing each of those words. His voice showed no hostility towards Elise or her beautiful creation, it was just the truth for him. Theodore did not care which one of the soups it would be. Let's be real, it all tasted the exact same. The same flavor dulled down by Theo's constant gloomy mood. You could call him a nihilist, and he would reply with a sophisticated, intellectual 'I don't care'. She continued to pepper him with questions, making him lose his focus. This banter and mundane small-talk were getting boring. Well, at least she looked like she got the kicks out of endlessly talking. Theo linked constant talking to low intelligence (unless we were talking about social intelligence). That, or Elise was really smart and interacted positively with everyone to avoid her own ass being bagged when bad times knocked on the door. Either way, he did still like her. Due to charisma? Most likely. Due to his own lack of charisma? Perhaps. Maybe because people with pretty faces got always treated better? Maybe.

"I can see. Problem is, I can't see very well," he explained, and from his voice, you could already hear how he was chasing butterflies in his head. When Anisha strutted to the scene, he was completely distracted by his more interesting thoughts. Only when she dramatically fell on Vee, who he had missed too, did he flinch and grab his shirt where his heart would have been. Feeling his heartbeat after the surprise, he eventually let go. This was like a daily occurrence in the Glade. Some people still sucked energy from who-knows-where and were energic enough to jump around. Theo blinked slowly for a few times, looking at the two before turning back to Elise as if nothing had happened. He was glad to hear that Vera made the choice for him. Seeing that his own bowl got snatched already by Anisha, he let out a deep sigh full of an old man's sorrow.

"Quiet down you two, the soup is hot and if you keep flailing your arms like that, you might risk getting several degree burns," he pushed his glasses up his nose bridge. He did care for all the members stuck in here with him. He didn't like catching himself getting attached to these folks, but they did a pretty darn good job in somehow convincing him to work through each day at a time, and carefully hope that one day they would pack their bags and leave this place. He did not like the idea of siding with any kind of idea just yet, but a man was allowed to dream. Taking a glance at the soups properly for once, he found himself liking the smell of the tomato soup more. However, to not hurt any feelings or whatever, he pointed at the carrot one.

"Yeah..." he repeated once again.
 
Nikolay Alexeyev
Keeper
Interaction: N/A

The repeated echo of his shoes slamming against the smooth pavement was something he had heard for quite a long time. He was a keeper, rather pathetic keeper at that. He was a keeper of a small party, four people including himself, they were labeled as outcasts. Runners earned a reputation, a bad one. They got people killed, got their hopes up and squashed them down into nothing, ruining their last moments. Those were just some of the statements connected to his role alone, however, he wasn't as alone as it came off. Maybe being alone would have kept him out of trouble, having a defiant streak of pushing back against the insults strewn towards those he is close with. The blonde haired brute carried himself in a confident way, fairly different from his current mood as he ran through the maze. He was bemused, his broad jawline having a subtle frown on it as he charged through the enclosed maze. He had wondered what it'd be like, solving the maze. Nikolay was decent at solving puzzles and situations, his brain pumping out different things that could be a possibility--the maze's different options eluded him though. Nikolay lacked the ability to try every path, but he had come close to it. Nikolay had been a runner for a few months, years, he couldn't really recall how long it had been for him. He'd be considered a relic if he wasn't careful, he'd actually be one.

Nikolay couldn't blame the naysayers, he'd probably think the same if he hadn't been forced into the runner role, developed friendships within. He couldn't help but think about the people he lost while running. There was nothing else he could think about, it was the one thing that reminded him of Mitch--and he couldn't forget his biggest regret. Nikolay had always been distraught, and when he seemed to 'grow out of it' he would go on solo runs. Rarely did he go on paired runs like he used to, everyone had to split up to encourage finding an exit or a new pathway. It was his drive forward, his desire to complete the maze aside from his own opinions came directly from another's life long goal. Running solo was the only option he could think of for the runners, to get real results they'd need to split up. Safety was no longer something they could afford, even within the glade. The safest place for an extricate would ironically be within the maze itself, after the first incident of a few people ganging up on a few extricates in a fight Nikolay was uncertain of what would happen. He already knew things could not be undone, he had chosen to stay loyal and do what his friend could not.

Shaking off his bizarre train of thought, Nikolay slowed as he reached the three-way, his bright eyes raking over the paths he could take as he came to a stop. Nikolay straightened his back as he looked the three options he had to his left, two large paths forked off farther back, a curve or turn would be visible, and as he turned his head he noticed an extra pathway open and ready for exploration. His excitement sparked, recalling only the fact that his hunch was correct. He would be happily eager to report to the map maker his progress, towards solving the puzzle plaguing the gladers for years or as long as they could remember might be solved soon. There was an edge of doubt that fogged him, the thought of being able to to succeed where his predecessors could not, which was startling to him. The idea of finding the same path which Mitch had been intended to go down was saddening...he had tried to fight to get down this possible path, and being unable to reach it made Nikolay feel even more regret as if he was trespassing. He himself advocated for extricates, something he knew Mitch was for, considering he also died for it. Nikolay was discouraged, unsure of how he actually felt on the whole leave or stay, so he clouded his own view of it up and defends it as if he was defending Mitch instead.

Jogging along, he took to the new path, for obvious reasons, more so that he was lacking in focus of the rules. Nikolay understood that when he really put his mind to something, it'd be difficult to deter himself from not completeing it.With his jaw set stiffly, shoulders tense, and arms swinging back and forth in unison before breaking up to the left swinging up and then the right swinging up afterwards. Nikolay was running, as his titled suggested him to do, down the path. His mind was focused while he himself was left to wonder what could have been rather than what was. That's why he stumbled the moment a noise rung out around him. Before he knew it, he was cowering, hiding behind a corner that turned down another way. Nikolay was hiding from something, and that something was hideous sounding.

His chest thundered, heart nearly breaking his ribcage as he hesitated. Nikolay didn't muster the courage to peek around the corner until a faint moan slithered to his ear drums, and even after he heard it he had stayed completely still with his back pressing against the wall. He had been left running for a while when he noticed how late it was starting to get, which allowed him to slow down, to think. To hear. Having nearly rounded the very corner he was cowering behind he was unaware of the loud mechanical screeching he heard. So now he was pressing himself flat against the wall, now very clearly hearing the odd noises coming from whatever was behind him on the otherside. Then, as he heard another, more muffled moan, he could recognize it. The oh so familar red head, resident lighting queen, she had somehow gotten all the way ahead of him, more than likely taking a path that opened up to the current one.

That was when the courage got to him. He turned himself, head poking out he let his blue eyes poke out. He knew whatever it was, it would be a higher chance of being a griever than anything else. He had never seen one of those monsters, and he believed they were what ended the first heavy loss within the glade. It broke him, the moment his eyes looked over the beast. The sight was disgusting, bug like in form, long metal legs struck out, one poking through the runner which had him gasping for air as his eyes looked over the sight. It felt like his heart leap into his throat, clogging any noise or reaction trying to escape from him. He couldn't stop himself from watching, and that was because he found himself inching out of his hiding spot. He wasn't aware of his movements, just that his mind was running on empty, he was left without words or thoughts, only actions that were bringing him closer and closer towards whatever the thing was. He couldn't identify anything, well there was one thing he could identify--fear. He was fearful of the creature hunched over like a broken tree which grew lopisded, and it angered him. The fear of that thing furthered his rage as he thought of what it had done.

| To Be Contiued Next Post |​
 
Elise r. Adair

Location: The Kitchen| Interacting with: Kassandra Rose Kassandra Rose hwayi hwayi D d1uni5ys24si3o | Mentions:


Wonder and anticipation formed a glimmer in her eyes as she looked at Theo, but his answer was sure to rid her of that happiness. She expected a "Yes Elise I would love to taste your amazing carrot soup!", or a "Elise you are wonderful thank you so much for your effort." at the least, but instead she got a gloom, morbid "It doesn't matter.". No, it did matter, Theo. Food was no joke to the ambitious cook standing in front of him, so this was definitely not the way to go. As much as she liked forcing her food on others and gaining attention through it, she gained no fun out of this neutral, simple answer.

" 'it doesn't matter' isn't one the menu, Theodore." She responded, an impish grin now glued to her face as she winked playfully at the Med-Jack after her dumb witty joke. "Again, It's either a delicious carrot soup made with tender love and care, or-" Elise grabbed the serving spoon in the redwater bloodbath and pulled it out, letting the hot liquid pour back down into the pot. "whatever this is supposed to be." She added, revealing a light hint of annoyance and a dramatised expression that silently screamed 'Eww'. She was clearly still biased towards her very own concoction. Rightfully so.

Elise found herself lifting the odd tomato soup back up again, glaring at in awe that someone would even consider the fluid superior to the other. Her moment of vulnerability was unfortunately abused by someone, for she found the bowl in her hand slipping out of her grasp, causing the glare on her face to travel to the front. She looked at Theo at first since he was the person supposedly in front of her anyway but soon took notice of the presence of a familiar hyperactive hazard that arguably formed more of a risk to the entire Glade than, well, just about anything else combined. The Keeper of Cooks simply couldn't help but light up a little whenever the oddity appeared again, albeit often accompanied by an underlying sense of irritation and fear. She would honestly love to just send the other Keeper right to the back of the line, but she figured it was best to keep the Bricknick as a friend, rather than a foe. Who knew when the kitchen would need another renovation.

Forcing a slightly real fake annoyed expression onto her face, Elise stared at Anisha only to see her fall down on one of Elise's fellow Glade halflings, Vera. Elise was startled ever so slightly at first, tensing up a bit through shock that would soon enough vanish and turn into a giggle. It was funny to see very putting her utmost strength into keeping the theatrical creature standing alongside herself, but Elise would've truthfully enjoyed it more if Anisha had just fallen down without a single soul to save her.

Elise was pleasently surprised by Theo's reaction to the whole scheme, literally pulling the words out of her mouth. This was obviously all in fun, but if either one of those clumsy artisans were to put even a single hand on her beloved carrot soup.. Well, let's just say that there was a pan waiting in the back with both of their names on it.

She nodded along to Theo's remark, agreeing thoroughly. She was on the verge of adding something sassy along the lines of "burn wounds would be the least of your worries", but Vee was quick to come in with a heartwarming comments. People like her, the ones who gave plenty of compliments, were the reason why Elise was almost eternally bound by a smile.

Elise just leaned back and enjoyed the attention for a bit, sliding two bowls in front of her while she couldn't help but smile brightly. The cheesy lines were at fault."You're so sweet. I'll let you cut in line just for today." Elise remarked, lenient as per usual. It honestly didn't take much to sway the cook. "And I might consider letting you stay too if you give me that bowl back, Anisha." Her eyes shifted to the troublemaker, waiting for a reply.

The cook took just a second to peek beyond the three Keepers in front of her, noticing the line was growing at a steady pace and would thus need to be taken care of a bit faster than it was now. Sure, Elise loved to chat, but she also loved not having to look at agitated hangry faces all day if those could be happy and radiant instead. She quickly got to pouring the carrot soup into the two bowls (three bowls if Anisha actually made a good decision), finishing up with the addition of a wooden spoon.

"Here you go! Please enjoy~" Elise said, gently nudging the somewhat equally filled bowls to the front of the counter.

Two hungry customers cleared, just a thousand more to go.
code by Ri.a
 

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Name: Angelica Blackburn
Angel was standing in the line looking all around at other people who were socializing,or either by their lonesome reading.HA!Angel couldn't read right now,she is still a little confused about where she is and if she'll ever leave.Angel wanted to be loved and no one hear was going to do it,she remembers a person who loved her.But she just can't put her finger on who and where they are.It's a bummer not knowing where you are or where you came from.It makes you feel like your totally lost.And to make matters worst Angel couldn't leave because there was a big fucking maze right outside!That was impossible to go through and it was unlikely for them to ever get through.Everyday Angel would make the maps,drawing lines and dots, sometimes even points.But it didn't look like it was going anywhere, the same thing over and over.Wait isn't that a pattern?The maps were all patterns,but what was the point.Angel hasn't been in the Glade for long but she was starting to understand it even though there was an big spot in her brain and heart just waiting for all her questions to be explained or for someone to love her.All this was going through Angels mind while she was waiting in line for her food.
When she finally got her food she smiled at the young lady giving it to her and politely said

"Thank You Elise"

She knew the young ladies name from some people grabbing their plates from her.And when Angel finally sat down,she didn't have an appetite but the food smelled so good that Angel began to eat.Angel took tiny bites swiftly but also using her manners.Angel just wanted to go back to her hiding spot and stay there forever,but she had a job to do so she could stay there "forever" but maybe for some minutes before she has to go.

Location
Kitchen

Interactions
N/A

Mentions
Danidify Danidify <----->Elise
code by Ri.a
 

Clay Rogers
Second-in-Command-ish
Mentions: Danidify Danidify || Interactions: paralyzed paralyzed ||​

Barely concealing his initial jumpy reaction, Clay turned to see their newest member of the Glade standing before him. The blood was the first thing to catch his gaze and his posture went on alert immediately. Medic, medic, medic: his brain started chanting instantly, but he tampered down his urge to immediately call for a medic considering the relatively casual greeting he had received. Instead, he looked the other boy over quickly, then shot a look past him in the direction he had probably come from. His sixth sense told him nothing was horribly wrong, so he allowed his gaze to drift back over the greenie for a more careful second look. He choked down the dryness in his throat and smiled faintly, his subconscious finding amusement in the awkwardness of the greeting.
“Maximus,” he said, his face finding a gentle, genuine smile to display. “I remember,” he nodded, eyes drifting over Maximus’ face, bathed in sunlight. He shifted slightly, trying to angle himself so that neither of them would have to face the sun, but it was almost directly overhead so his efforts were futile. “I don’t mind at all showing you to the food shack, but I’m pretty sure Elise would kill you if you came anywhere near her precious kitchen with a bleeding hand.” He had finally caught the source of the blood and nodded to it lightly. “May I?” He held out his hand. He was no Med-Jack, but he did like to tail them every now and then to ease his worries that he would be useless in an emergency, so he knew some basic stuff and he carried little bandages as a precaution.
His posture was more relaxed now, but he didn’t like to think of their newest member having already been injured on the job. “You’re working with the Slicers, right? How are you liking it?” At first he only meant it as a casual, conversational question, but suddenly he realized that this was his job now. Managing newbies, leading Glade tours, making sure everyone was happy with their jobs. That was stressful to think about, so he redirected his attention to Maximus. He could handle caretaker. Caretaker was no problem.

 

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